


Nothing Sweet or Gentle

by fourfreedoms



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Musicians, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Musicians, PWP, alternate universe - kidfic, nanny!au, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny promised to fuck Patrick when he was ready. Patrick's ready. </p><p>Set after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126015">In My Blood and In My Bones</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Sweet or Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired during a time stamp meme on tumblr. I thought it was just going to be a little thing. But apparently there were howling demands to put it up here, so here it is. (Okay, they weren't howling demands, they were very nice demands)

Johnny goes home to Winnipeg for a few weeks at the start of the summer. Patrick can’t get away because they have a gig up in Boston followed by another one in Providence. He wants to go, but Johnny says his parents aren’t going anywhere, and the gigs certainly might. Things are finally starting to take off for them, they’ve been getting a lot more bookings, and they just did a small feature for I-D, which was mostly about how beautiful Sharpy was, but Patrick couldn't care less, because exposure is exposure.

It’s completely unexpected how empty the apartment is without Johnny in it. Patrick lived here for years without him. He'd liked living alone. It was welcome after years of close contact with roommates in little tin can apartments. Not to mention, Johnny’s been out of the apartment a lot, with interviewing and things. They don’t keep completely parallel hours, often times when Patrick comes home from work, Johnny’s already asleep in bed, or if he’s up it’s because he’s furiously reading some novel, hoping to stay awake long enough so that Patrick can get home and they can fuck. But there's a difference between not being there much and just being _gone_. 

It’s lonely without him. Patrick spends a lot of time playing video games and tooling around on his keyboard. He doesn’t really go out, aside from shifts at the bar and band practice and one gig at (le) poisson rouge that enterprising Alice had somehow snuck Pippa into.

She even manages to talk her way backstage.

“Alice, how did you get through the doors!” he asks, hurrying to tug on a fresh shirt. The show was 21+ so how she got herself through, let alone a grade schooler, is baffling.

Alice shrugs. “She did it,” she says, nodding her chin at Pippa.

Patrick laughs and shakes his head. “What’d you say, Pip?”

“I said you were Mommy’s boyfriend,” Pippa tells him, hands on her hips. “He thought I meant the floppy haired guy though.”

Sharpy tosses his hair. “Good taste, obviously!”

Patrick laughs when Pippa rolls her eyes. 

They go for pierogies at Veselka afterwards, fried ones, with apple sauce and sour cream and Pippa catches him up on school and her life. Her dad is selling the Upper East Side place, for a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, because he’s met somebody new and it looks like they’re getting married. Pippa shrugs noncommittally when Patrick asks her how she feels about it, but Alice simulates vomiting where Pippa can’t see. 

Alice is great. She’s like an older sister to Pip, an island of rationality amid the storm of Pippa's parents. Although Patrick is still mystified at how she conned Julia into a job, especially as he’s walking them back to SoHo and she pulls out a cigarette and lights up right there.

“Good grief,” he says, shaking his head as she politely exhales smoke downwind of them. He can picture Johnny’s biblical wrath very clearly.

Some of it must be reflected in his face, because Pippa grins, a little evilly. “Alice says I shouldn’t start smoking, because then I’ll have to take a babysitting job just to keep me in cigarettes.”

“It’s the worst,” Alice says, over her shoulder.

On the steps of Julia’s apartment he takes a cellphone video of Pippa and Alice singing an Ellie Goulding song and sends it to Johnny with the tagline “We miss you.”

God, he really fucking does. It hasn’t been that long, but Johnny’s taken up residence somewhere in his head and Patrick doesn’t remember what it was like before him anymore. 

*

They haven’t talked about Patrick bottoming for a few months now. Things have been really good the way they are, they’re both a little too lazy to change it up and they’ve been super busy. He’s still getting used to Johnny feeding a finger into his hole as he sucks him off, but the day before Johnny left, he’d pushed a second one in and Patrick’s hips had come right off the bed and he’d come all over Johnny’s face and chest.

He’s been thinking about it a lot since then, of course, when Johnny isn’t here to do anything about it. Patrick hasn’t jerked off this much since he was a teenager, but he and Johnny were having kind of an epic amount of sex, and he thinks his body has gotten accustomed to a set level of orgasms. Now that he's not having them en masse, he's getting a little wired. 

One night, late, he can’t sleep, he twists two fingers inside of himself, imagines its Johnny’s capable hand, and jerks himself off as slow as possible. Patrick doesn’t usually like to make a big production of it, rubbing one out isn’t some celebratory event or anything, but Johnny’s always drawing it out, making it into its own thing.

Once, about ten minutes into watching an episode of House of Cards in bed, with Johnny propped against the headboard and Patrick leaning back to his chest, between his thighs, Johnny had unexpectedly reached past the waistband of his boxers and started jerking Patrick off. He didn’t let Patrick come until the end of the episode, kept tightening his thumb and forefinger into a ring around the base of Patrick’s dick every time he got close. Patrick had been trying to hide it from him by the end, how close to the edge he was, all he wanted was to fucking come already, but Johnny had always seemed to know how close he was.

He’d been so crazy with it, trying to focus on Kevin Spacey being Kevin Spacey, and to not lose his mind from the assault on his dick. He’d wanted something, anything. When Johnny had curved his fingers up behind Patrick's balls, Patrick had had the brief sensation that all that he needed was to impale himself on Johnny’s dick, just grind down on him, until the empty ache inside him was gone. The episode ended a few minutes later and Johnny finally stopped teasing and started fisting his dick in earnest. Patrick had come with his head thrown back on Johnny’s shoulder, his fingers sunk so deep into the muscles of Johnny’s right thigh that he’d worn bruises for a week.

He thinks about that now, about riding Johnny reverse cowgirl, spread wide over Johnny’s thighs, hopefully making Johnny just as much of a slut for it as he’s made Patrick. He comes when he pictures Johnny sitting up underneath him and leaning in to sink his teeth into his shoulder. Afterwards, he finally feels exhausted enough to let himself pass out.

He wakes up at some point in the middle of the night, unsure of what exactly disturbed him, only to find Johnny sitting at the edge of the bed, just watching him, face fond.

“Huh?” he says, lifting his head from the pillows. “Thought you weren’t back until Wednesday.”

“Have a last minute job interview tomorrow, so I booked a flight back.” He looks good, still completely dressed, while Patrick’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s naked underneath the sheets. Johnny smiles and Patrick pushes himself up to his elbows so he can lean up and kiss him.

He’s still a little sleepy and he can’t be bothered to be ashamed, so he just says against Johnny’s mouth. “I fucked myself on my hand and pretended it was you.”

Johnny inhales deeply, surprised. He slides the hand that he was using to cup Patrick’s jaw down the column of his neck, pressing in on his adam’s apple with his thumb. “Yeah?”

Patrick nods, throat working against Johnny’s thumb.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, dragging his hand down Patrick’s back, over the knobs of his vertebrae. It's slow enough that Patrick could stop him at any time. Patrick stares up into his shadowed eyes, biting at his lower lip as Johnny’s fingers part Patrick’s cheeks and skim across his entrance, which is still sticky and wet with lube.

Johnny plays the tips of his middle and index fingers over the rim of his hole and past, to drag over his perineum. The touch is so light it’s almost pain, and Patrick’s buttocks tighten as his dick starts to harden against the sheets. Johnny sinks those same two fingers into him, no preamble or warning, and Patrick groans, grinding his hips down into the mattress.

“You gonna do something about it,” he says, fisting his hands in his pillow.

Johnny tugs his fingers out and then pushes them in again deep.

He bends down so that his lips are at Patrick’s ear. “Is. That. What you want?” he repeats, slowly, just as he angles his fingers into Patrick’s prostate.

Patrick sobs. “Yes, yes, that’s what I fucking want.”

Johnny seems so in control and collected that when he blows out a shaky breath it takes Patrick by surprise. Sometimes he feels so crazy for Johnny, especially in the face of Johnny’s implacable calmness, he forgets that he could be Johnny’s kryptonite, just as much as Johnny’s his.

Johnny doesn’t even take his clothes off. Score one for Patrick, he thinks. He keeps his arms wrapped round his pillow as Johnny pushes inside, barely slicking Patrick up more than he already was. The parted fly on his slacks meets Patrick’s ass, cold zipper teeth biting into the skin.

Johnny gets a hand under him, drawing him up to his knees and back onto Johnny’s cock. It’s painful. Johnny’s equipment is a hell of a lot thicker than his two fingers, but the ragged way he’s breathing, the thumbs he rubs in circles over the dimples in Patrick’s spine somehow keeps Patrick hard through it. When Johnny thrusts back into him, the head of Patrick's dick drags along over the sheets, making Patrick tremble and cry out.

He feels slightly separated from it, the stretch in his ass, the less than urgent pressure in his dick as Johnny smoothly fucks into him. It’s good, lazy pleasure. He’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t think he can come from this. Then Johnny’s cockhead slides right over his prostate and Patrick digs his cheek into the pillow and curses. 

“I am really…fucking sorry,” Johnny says, leaning down over him, smooth cashmere sweater skimming Patrick’s skin. “I’m not gonna be able to…”

The hand he was using to tilt Patrick back into his thrusts, slides down over his belly, palm flat, pressing up, like he’ll be able to feel his own dick on the other side of Patrick’s skin. He drags Patrick back against him hard, forcing a cry from Patrick’s lungs.

He crowds in close, forcing Patrick’s knees further up the bed, and making him get his elbows under him so his face doesn’t get mashed into the pillows.

“That’s it,” Johnny breathes, and shifts so that he can jerk Patrick off.

Jesus. JESUS. JEE-SUS.

It’s too much. Patrick’s choking on his own tongue. Johnny’s fucking him hard and deep, probably a little too hard for his first go at this, but Patrick wouldn’t change it for anything. Especially not as Johnny’s fisting him quick and dirty just the way he knows Patrick likes.

Johnny huffs out a laugh when Patrick starts swearing at him.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you,” Patrick says, trying to balance himself on shaky arms, face buried into his own bicep. He’s gasping raggedly, pinned between Johnny’s dick and the sure grip of his right hand with absolutely nowhere to go, nowhere at all.

He comes when Johnny pulls nearly the entire way out of him and hovers there with just the fat flared head of his dick holding Patrick open. When he pushes back inside, Patrick has to reach down to still Jonny's hand on his dick, because he simply cannot take it anymore. He’s clenching down so tight that Johnny can barely move, every inch of his insides clinging. He’s full so full, and even as he wants to get away from the sensation, he can’t stop forcing himself back into it. He’s already come, but there wasn’t any fucking relief from it, and his brain can’t even parse out what’s happening anymore.

The arm that Johnny’s using to brace himself of Patrick is right by his head, and so he turns and just bites into the unyielding muscle of his forearm, teeth sinking into the salt and soap taste of his skin.

The sound Johnny makes when he comes is ragged and desperate, like Patrick killed him while he was fighting to survive. The arm that Patrick bit trembles, but he keeps Patrick braced up with the same palm that’s now sticky with Patrick’s come.

He stays like that for a moment and Patrick becomes aware of little things he some how missed earlier, the chapped line Johnny’s zipper left on his ass, the cramping in his thighs, the abraded feeling of his cheek.

Johnny breathes deep. Hand clenching on Patrick’s hip, he draws himself free of Patrick’s body. And Patrick doesn’t know how, he wouldn’t have even thought it was possible, but the slick drag of Johnny’s dick back out of his abused hole, barely any less hard for all that he just came second ago, has Patrick coming a second time, teeth dug so deep in his lip he tastes blood.

“Mother of…” Johnny cuts himself off and tips Patrick over onto this back. Patrick throws his arm over his face to hide his flushed cheeks. “Did you just…?”

Patrick swallows and nods and Johnny drags his arm away from his face to kiss him deep and hard. When he pulls back, Patrick finally notices how much of a mess he is—hair and clothes in disarray, dick still hanging outside his pants.

“It’s uh…nice to see you again,” Patrick says, summoning up a smile.

“Yeah,” Johnny says softly, leaning in to press their noses together. “It is.”

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome to come pester me on [tumblr](http://the4freedoms.tumblr.com) for more. My job is very boring and google docs looks so close to actual work. Not that I'm advocating you help me uh...fail to work.


End file.
